Mirvin
Name: Mirvin. Age: 209 Sex: N/A though refers to itself as a man. Basic physical appearance and attributes: Mirvin is a modified protectron. His standard weapons no longer work, so his right hand/claw has been replaced with a sawn-off shotgun. His faceplate has a bluish tinge to it. Weapons and armour: Sawn-off winchester 12 guage shotgun. This weapon can only hold 2 shots at a time, but Mirvin has a mechenism fitted to his arm which reloads for him. This can hold 8 more shells. After this it takes him a while to reload as his left claw isn't dextrous enough to load the shells. Personality: Mirvin tries to be one of the guys, trying to crack jokes and the like but his blank emotionless face and simulated voice tend to make others uneasy in his company. Mirvin is completely driven by the final comand his former owner gave him. Occupation: Mirvin is a skilled mechanic, although this is limeted to cars and motorbikes, so this may be a fairly useless skill. He is good at foraging for supplies and is a quick and keen learner. Faction: Grayditch. Backstory: Mirvin was programmed as an assistant mechanic and sold to a small workshop that restored old 20th century classic cars. The workshop was quite remote and was unaffected by the blasts when the bombs fell. Most of the human mechanics were at work when the bombs fell and the workshop served as their' home and fort in the following years. The owner of the garage, a man named Frank Horn, was also present that day and survived the war. Initially Horn led the community that sprouted and Mirvin was sent out with foraging parties and quickly grew quite adept at picking through scrap and finding useful parts. The group mostly kept to themselves, avoiding contact with traders and scouts from other settlements. Eventually the workshop was discovered by raiders. Mirvin's weaponry was destroyed in the ensuing attack and several of the former workers were killed. The raiders were eventualy driven off, but the survivors were furious. They blamed Horn, claimed that he had neglected to arm and equip them. They claimed that Horn's insructions to forage for food and mechanical equipment, along with his orders to avoid contact with outsiders were to blame for them being unprepared. They claimed that if they had been insructed to gather weapons instead they may have been able to defend themselves. After the ensuing power struggle Horn was banished. As he was the company owner Mirvin accompanied Horn. Horn eventualy settled in an abandoned shack. Mirvin would venture out and forage food and supplies for the increasingly infirm old man and Horn would perform basic maintinance on him. In the shack they had found a winchester shotgun and plenty of scrap metal. With this Horn constructed a rig that replaced Mirvin's hand. To this he added a loading device as Mirvin had difficulty reloading. This allowed Mirvin to defend himself if he ever ran into anything hostile while gathering supplies. The two remained in the shack for a few years but eventually Horn died of old age. Before he died Horn told Mirvin to leave him and go into the wasteland. He was a little senile towards the end and sometimes forgot that Mirvin was a robot. He told him "I gotta thank you for all you done for me Mirvin. You're a good man, but you can't do any more for me. I want to be alone for a while. You should go on, get out of here and make a life for yourself." Mirvin simply stood there. "Where should I go?" he asked. "Anywhere son, just away from here. Take the shells, ain't no use to me anyhow. You got your gun, so you can take care of yourself. Just get on and try to find other survivors. Settle down, be part of a community, that kind of thing. Just don't come back here." As this was a direct order from his owner, Mirvin had to comply. He gathered up the shotgun shells and left the shack looking for a life of his own. So far he has been searching for one hundred and ninety seven years.